Les Amis de la Magie
by The Elf Out of Time
Summary: Set in the 1800's, follow Les Amis as they go through their Hogwarts years.
1. Chapter 1 - year one

"Slytherin!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Gryffindor!"

"Hufflepuff!"

The first years had now all been sorted, there robes had been colored and everyone was tucking into the feast. Only a few of the new students looked unhappy. A pureblood Gryffindor, named Enjolras, had gotten on the train with two other students that morning and now sat alone- metaphorically, of course. His new house mates were seated around him chatting, but for the most part, they ignored him. He sighed and took out a small journal and quill that he kept for times he didn't wish to cause trouble; something that seamed to happen whenever he opened his mouth. Suddenly the book was snatched away.

"First years should learn to _participate_," An older student stood, holding the book over the first year. "and Purebloods should mind their own business and stay out of ours." Enjolras raised an eyebrow.

"What does blood status have to do with anything? I don't seek to lord it over anyone."

"Stupid first year. You don't understand how things work around here. If you're gonna hang with us you gotta be bold, daring, brave. A diary? This stops now." The older student tossed the book to his friends.

"Give it back." Enjolras said softly, standing up with a hand outstretched.

"And if I don't? What are you going to do about it? Run to daddy that the mean boy took your book?"

"No. I'm going to hex you. Give it back." By now the first year had his wand out and was pointing it at the older students. "I'm warning you."

"Give it back." A prefect girl stood with her arms crossed, seaming to be at ease, but you could tell she was dangerous. "Don't cause trouble on the first day."

"Shut up McGonagall. You have no say." The older boy rounded on the prefect. "Get back, or after I'm done with this idiot I will make your life hell. No one likes half-bloods."

"No." Enjolras stepped in front of the older student. "Your business is with me. Let her be."

Aww, brave little pureblood. Not running to daddy yet? Well lets see how you like this."

And then everything _exploded._

Well not really. But it certainly felt like it to the group of students teasing Enjolras.

"I said give it back." Enjolras walked over to the bullies, took his book back and sat down. The prefect walked up to him.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I didn't seem to have a choice."

"They just don't like purebloods."

"Yeah. I got that." He tucked the book back into his pocket as Courfeyrac and Combeferre came running up.

"That was Marvelous!"

"Shush Courf. I did what I had to."

"Actually, Enjolras, I can think of ten spells that would have done the same thing without causing such a scene."

"Oh come off it 'Ferre. It was the first thing that popped into my head."

"Excuse me." The prefect's voice was only slightly annoyed.

"Oh my stars Enjolras we have been here for less than a day and you're in trouble already?" Combeferre's eyes went big.

"He's not in trouble, but if I catch him at it again I'll have to report him. Hexing your own house is frowned upon. In fact, refrain from hexing anyone, please."

Enjolras nodded. "Will do."

The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stayed with the Gryffindor for the rest of the feast only parting ways, reluctantly, when the headmaster called for the prefects to take the first years to there dorms.


	2. Chapter 2 - year one

It was almost Christmas before Enjolras caused any more major trouble. He went to his classes, he studied hard. Combeferre helped him keep up in potions, the only subject he lacked skill in.

After the first night incident Enjolras had been mostly left alone by the anti-pure bloods, but his aptitude for hexing others had attracted attention from the Ravenclaws. He actually spent more time in the Ravenclaw common room than his own, since he had yet to make a friend in his own house. The older Ravenclaws asked questions of him, trying to figure him out. How does a first year, who had never done magic before on purpose, hex six fifth and sixth year students?

Enjolras had no answers. Combeferre had given him various potions and tried various spells on him, but nothing had given them any answers. Eventually the interest had faded, but Enjolras kept coming back to the Ravenclaw rooms. He had no trouble getting in, the riddles proved no problem for his quick mind, so they let him. Some of the older students pet named him 'Gryphon' because he was a 'lion who had grown wings' although some disapproved of the name because he did not match the actual gryphon description.

Courfeyrac had come along the first time the Ravenclaws asked to see Enjolras. He had been bored out of him mind and found the fact that the Ravenclaws took everything so literally dull. He had not come back till Combeferre had assured him the older students no longer barraged Enjolras with questions.

The trouble had started when Enjolras had announced he didn't like the headmaster.

"Enjolras!" Exclaimed Combeferre as he bent down to pick up the book he had dropped in shock. "Why on earth would you say something like that?"

"It's true. He's unfair, plays favorites and treats the rest of us like we don't exist." The young Gryffindor's statement was true. The headmaster preferred purebloods above all.

"You're a pureblood Enj, why do you care?" Courfeyrac asked, looking up from his essay.

"Don't call me Enj. And it's not fair, you're just as good as me, why should I get treated any better? We're all the same on the inside, no matter who's blood flows through our veins." He shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get so worked up. It's just been nagging me. You know what. Maybe I need sleep, I'll see you in the morning." He got up and left the Ravenclaw rooms.

They did see Enjolras the next morning, but he was in the hospital wing. As his eyes blinked open Courfeyrac and Combeferre stood over him.

"What the- Enjolras? What happened?" Courfeyrac looked at his friend, concerned.

"I may have started a riot in my common room."

"You did what?!" Combeferre sputtered, always a rule follower.

"You heard me well enough. I started a riot. I mentioned to a second year what I thought about the headmaster and he hit me with a nasty curse, so of course I fought back. Soon the whole house was fighting. A lot of them were content just to curse me, though, so… yeah. A third year named Bahorel, I think, grabbed me and pulled me out and brought me here. I guess I passed out because I don't remember getting here."

"I know Bahorel." Combeferre said. "He's smart enough, but brash, perhaps we should invest in his friendship."

"I'll talk to him at breakfast." Courfeyrac volunteered. "Speaking of witch, we have classes to get to. Come on 'Ferre, Enjolras can stay here and sulk. Lets go find this Bahorel."

"Some friends you are. Enjolras muttered as his friends left, but he was smiling.

"No. I have commitments, friends and plenty of other things to do. I do not need to hang out with first years."

"But Bahorel-"

"Courfeyrac, you seem like a nice kid, but no." Bahorel stood up to leave, but the look on Courfeyrac's face stopped him. "Fine, I will come say hi to Enjolras. I will see you after class in the library." The third year stood and left the dinning hall.

"Well that went well."

"Shut up 'Ferre."

Later that day, after their classes where over, the four students met in the library, as planed. Enjolras was still a bit of a mess, but he had been let out after much begging.

"Thank you, Bahorel, for last night… I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't pulled me out of there."

"You're a good fighter kid, but no one can face down 20 angry Gryffindors at once. So why did you want to meet me here?"

"Well you see, I know you are very forward thinking. We are planning, for very far in the future, a revolution."


	3. Chapter 3 - year one

"Morning Bahorel." Enjolras met the third year in the common room like he did every morning. "Sleep well?" Ever since the second time Enjolras had gotten beat up in the Gryffindor common room Bahorel met him at the foot of the stairs and took him down to breakfast were they sat with Courfeyrac and Combeferre near the end of the Gryffindor table. Rule breaking or not, no one dared say anything. Bahorel was a beater on the _quidditch team, in addition to one of the best duelers the school had had in years. So the foursome sat together at meals and met to discuss their plans whenever they were free. _

_ "Kind of young to be planning a revolution, aren't you?" Bahorel had asked. _

_ "No, it is never too early to plan for change." Enjolras had said firmly. _

_ "You're crazy kid." But Bahorel had come to a 'meeting' the next time he had been asked, and the time after that. One day he dragged a friend along. "This is _Grantaire. He's drunk most of the time, swears too much, and is a fifth year Slytherin."

"Why is he here?" Courfeyrac asked, inching away from the older student.

"I found him passed out in the halls."

"You have a habit of rescuing endangered souls." Combeferre commented. "Why bring him here?"

"He needs to turn his life around."

"And we are now the way peoples lives get turned around? OK, he can stay. But he has to wash before he comes next time." Enjolras wrinkled his nose. "He smells horrid."

"I do not." The disheveled fifth year protested.

"Yes you do." Courfeyrac said, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Come on. You're going to get cleaned up, and while you do that, I will fix your robes." He led the protesting student away, smiling and talking, and using his Hufflepuff charm.

A week later Grantaire began coming to meetings again. His robes had been patched; his hair trimmed so it curled around his ears and some color had come into his cheeks. However, as soon as Courfeyrac turned away, he reached into his robe and pulled out a flask of fire whiskey.

"It was like rehab in there." He grumbled, "But with nice people. They made me take warm baths and eat cookies and drink pumpkin juice and they fixed my robes and uggggg."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Combeferre commented. "And you smell better."

Grantaire sulked.

Bahorel raised an eyebrow at the others. "Can he stay?"

"Of course." The words were out of Enjolras's mouth before he could think why. "And anyone else, even if they just need a place to sit for a few hours. We will welcome and shelter anyone who asks." The others nodded; they would become a safe haven, a place of refuge. A shelter.

Although from what they did not yet know.


	4. Chapter 4 - year one

"Grantaire needs to pass his O.W.L's." Announced Courfeyrac a few weeks before the test was scheduled.

"No I don't. My grades are poor enough that it hardly matters at this point." The fifth year was sulking in the corner.

"Yes it does." Combeferre said, walking in with a stack of books. "Besides, we'll help you." He took the top book of the stack. "I marked the important paragraphs. Read them through by tomorrow."

Grantaire looked at the first year in shock. "No one has ever cared enough to help me study before." He said softly. "But it still doesn't matter. No amount of studying can make up for five years of slacking off." He tossed the book back to Combeferre, who tossed it right back.

"We can try." He said firmly. Grantaire rolled his eyes.

The next day Courfeyrac brought a friend. "This is Jehan. One of the smartest kids in Hufflepuff. And I think his mind works like yours, Grantaire."

"Courfeyrac, I am not a miracle worker." Jehan protested.

"No, none of us are." The first year agreed "But maybe, if we work together…"

The days flew by. Jehan taught Grantaire a lot along with Combeferre, Enjolras, Bahorel and Courfeyrac. Grantaire complained a lot, but once they took his stash of Fire Whiskey he became downright unbearable.

"There is no way I am taking that test sober." He announced three days before the two week testing began.

"Yes you are. You know a lot of things, and your common sense is… lacking, but still." Jehan closed the book he had been using. "You must pass, Grantaire, or you cannot move on."

"Jehan, the only class I have any desire to take is Care of Magical Creatures. And you said so yourself, I know many things about it and am likely to do well." Grantaire crossed his arms and made a face.

"Grantaire…" Enjolras began, but Courfeyrac cut in,

"Why don't you care about anything!? We are trying our hardest to make sure you pass that stupid test, and all you want to do is get drunk!"

Grantaire's face darkened. "You don't know anything about me, Courfeyrac." And then he left. It was not dramatic, but at the same time, it was.

Bahorel dragged Grantaire back the next day. "You will pass your O.W.L's if it is the last thing you do." He said firmly. Grantaire sulked but obediently began reading the book Combeferre handed him.

The first day of the test came. Grantaire was dragged out of bed by Enjolras and Bahorel (how they had gotten into his room he would never know). Courfeyrac dumped a bucket of cold water on his head and Combeferre handed him toast spread with strawberry preserves. A dressed and at least semi-awake Grantaire was taken to the testing area, where his friends wished him luck and departed.

The rest of the two weeks went much the same. They woke him up, got him ready and dropped him off. Grantaire pretended to be annoyed, but was secretly grateful; he would have slept through the first couple hours if not for them.

The two weeks went fast. Grantaire and Jehan both took an obscene amount of tests. Now all they had to do was wait for their scores.

Grantaire looked pleased when he got his scores. When he told his friends they all congratulated him. He had done better than anyone expected.

Charms: A

Transfiguration: P

Herbology: A

Defense against the Dark Arts: E

Potions: A

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Astronomy: D

Muggle Studies: E

History of Magic: D

Combeferre told Grantaire he'd help him study if he retook Transfiguration. Grantaire agreed. The head of his house had took him aside and scolded him, but Grantaire hardly cared. He had achieved, against all odds, mostly passing grades. And he had an E in his favorite class.

The group gathered for Butter Beer, and Grantaire was not even the least bit drunk when he showed up.

The summer had come; finally, everyone had survived the year. The group made plans to talk over the summer. Combeferre had an actual pet owl, and so did Jehan. Enjolras's cat could take messages, although not very far. It had been a satisfying year for everyone, and they all had made some new friends.


End file.
